


no longer a friend.

by hauntedthief



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Gen, Lucy's mentioned in this one, Poetry, Post-Last Battle, but she's not a main, do not repost to another site, susan feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22336627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedthief/pseuds/hauntedthief
Summary: "My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia."Susan has new Gods she prays to.
Relationships: Aslan & Susan Pevensie
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	no longer a friend.

**i. nylons**  
Your chainmail is gone now,  
turned to rust and withered away,  
replaced by black stockings  
with a black heart to match  
that pumps anger and hate and defiance  
through every inch  
of your, now, unmarred skin,  
despite the wars you’ve lived  
despite the life you had.  
The gowns are gone now  
and blouses and skirts are all that remain,  
are all the rage and fashion of modern days,  
precariously protecting you  
from the wandering hands in the light  
when you walk though this land,  
the Shadow Land,  
built on deception and deceit  
with the Lion that stalks your every move in the shadows  
of glass buildings and still trees,  
with it’s claws and teeth drawn,  
waiting patiently, tail swinging,  
to sink them quick and deep in your flesh  
in the shadows of sleep  
once more.  
You don’t give Him the chance,  
there are no openings for Him,  
not anymore.

 **ii. lipsticks**  
Your eyes are painted black  
sharp and wicked as you  
paralyze any who dare step in your way.  
You smile with lips the colour of blood,  
as deep and dark as the arrows you once unleashed,  
teeth drawn, sharp and white and pointed,  
-Unnatural, you hear from behind.  
Deadly, you think to yourself.-  
waiting and waiting  
for any fools to open their mouths,  
wanting to feel the satisfaction when you rip them into shreds  
(like you have been,  
time and time again).  
You are more monster than girl now,  
more dark and wild than the  
gentle and obedient servant you were moulded to be.  
You know better than to give a knife to your friends  
and think you are safe.  
Not after He showed you the error of your ways,  
with body piled on body of your family,  
broken and bloody and beaten and gone,  
left behind for only you to claim.  
Even the little lioness,  
the favoured one.  
Brave and free and valiant,  
but left as cold and dead as the Witch you were called to fight,  
once upon a time, a lifetime ago,  
when He was done.  
Called upon like puppets dangling from strings,  
that you once believed reached the sky  
but opened your eyes  
only to discover they were being pulled taut into  
His bloodied and open red maw  
as he reeled you in, one by one,  
feeding off of your Trust and Devotion and Loyalty and Faith.  
Only you noticed,  
the blood that dripped from your skin from  
the teeth that bit and the claws that scratched  
under the guise of Affection and Love.  
Only you noticed,  
and only you found the Courage to  
break free of the strings  
that bound and cut at you,  
tearing yourself into pieces in the process.  
.  
**iii. invitations**  
You face them now,  
a warrior,  
a goddess,  
a slayer of monsters and demons and Deception,  
going to battle any naysayers and disbelievers who tremble  
at your power,  
at your transformation,  
at your ressurection.  
You reach inside yourself to destroy the Lion that feeds on you,  
a parasite,  
tearing it out just as it tore you open when it settled itself  
inside your breast and dug its way into your heart,  
feeding off of your Youth and Naivety,  
insatiable.  
You pray to Gods,  
but Him no longer,  
not the beast hiding in the lion skin it wears,  
a trophy of an old conquest.  
You pray to the Gods,  
ones who take and take,  
just as you do in return.  
A circle of balance and peace and power,  
of beginning and end.  
Night watches over you,  
offering solace and anonymity in Her arms,  
taking, in return, your pain and tears and nightmares.  
Day peeks through every now and then,  
with Her warmth and protection and fire,  
taking your demons and feeding off of your despair.  
To Sorrow,  
who sits silently by your side in your grief,  
who provides comfort and companionship,  
you give your future to do with it what She will.  
Anger walks with you, side by side,  
Thrumming and flighty,  
giving you the ability to give a painful sting,  
to all the ones who have wronged you,  
taking, in return, the peace and calm of forgotten days.  
To Life and Death,  
the Ones who you’ve conquered time and time again,  
you give all that’s left without care.  
When He will see you again,  
you will grin, fierce and sharp and deadly,  
with a mouth painted red,  
a parody of the day He took them from you.  
He is forgotten now,  
just as you were.  
It’s time, my dear.  
To rise  
like the girl we know you to be,  
to shed that last life, another past life,  
and breathe again  
as you soar higher than any before you,  
higher than even He has dared to go.

**Author's Note:**

> also posted on [my tumblr](https://hauntedthief.tumblr.com/post/190367964666/i-nylons-your-chainmail-is-gone-now)


End file.
